The Circuit by Bob Shepherd

troops.
    ‘What about the bodies. Where are they now?’ I asked.
    Tariq said he didn’t know and that he’d asked his friends that same question. He was told the bodies could have been burnt, buried or dumped in the canals.
    ‘Do you think you could find out what happened to them?’ I asked. ‘It’s important we find out.’
    ‘I don’t know. I try,’ said Tariq. ‘Through my friend in Baath party I try to talk to Fedayeen man. He may know where to find bodies.’
    I asked him if it would be possible for Martin and me to meet with the Fedayeen man. ‘Would he come to see us?’ I asked.
    ‘He will not leave Basra,’ said Tariq. ‘But I go to Basra with you and you meet him there.’
    At that moment, two attack helicopters flew overhead and fired missiles at targets inside Basra.
    ‘Tariq, we can’t trust the Fedayeen. I know you think Basra is a great place but for me and Martin it’s very dangerous right now.’
    Tariq looked up at the attack helicopters and then back at me. ‘I understand.’
    ‘Thank you, Tariq, for finding out what you did,’ I said. ‘It’s dreadful news. We were really hoping the two men were still alive.’
    ‘Sadly not,’ said Tariq.
    ‘Let’s meet again tomorrow.’ I pointed up the road. ‘Do you see that track to the north of here on the right-hand side?’
    ‘Yes, I know it,’ said Tariq.
    ‘We’ll meet you there tomorrow at twelve o’clock,’ I said. ‘Please, if you can, try and find out from the Fedayeen man what happened to the bodies.’
    ‘I try. I talk to man directly.’ Tariq shook my hand and smiled. ‘Tomorrow you be late again?’
    Martin and I were left in a very difficult situation. Had Fred and Hussein really got shot? All we had at that point was the evidence we’d gathered from the incident area and an unconfirmed story from a local informant. We had established more or less what had happened to Terry and Daniel but until we had concrete proof, we had no way of knowing for sure what had become of Fred and Hussein.
    It was frustrating to think that the clues had run dry. Martin and I looked down the highway towards the bridge. If Tariq was lying or his information was wrong and the two lads were alive, then it was possible they were being held captive or holed up in a safe house in Basra.
    If Tariq was right, and Fred and Hussein had been shot where he said, then their bodies had to be somewhere in the vicinity. Our searches through the ditches and dead ground around the incident area had turned up nothing. We didn’t have the time or equipment to drag the oil-soaked canals. That left the hospital morgues in Basra.
    The problem was, of course, that the city had yet to fall to the British. The Brits had the ability to take Basra at any time but as we’d learned through our conversations with the military, politics not military imperatives were dictating the timing of the invasion. The Yanks were calling the shots and their priority was Baghdad. It could be weeks before the Americans gave the British Army the green light. In the meantime, more and more people were dying in and around Basra either through direct targeting or collateral damage. The bodies would be piling up in the morgues and Iraqis throughout the city would be searching for their missing loved ones.
    Dead or alive, one thing was certain; our chances of finding Fred and Hussein were very remote by that point. We didn’t have the luxury of waiting for the British to capture the city. We needed to go to Basra now.
    Having made up our minds to give it a go, Martin and I drafted a strategy. We agreed that we’d travel slowly with the modest intention of penetrating the outer edge of the city. We would advance further towards the centre only if circumstances allowed. If either of us felt at any point that we were being compromised, we’d pull back immediately – no discussion.
    We drove down the highway and pulled over two hundred yards south of the main bridge where Terry and his